


Lay Down Your Little Heart For Me

by maydayparade8123



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fills [11]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1261600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maydayparade8123/pseuds/maydayparade8123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Featuring an imaginary emoji of an axe, Percy as a barista, and Annabeth as the girl who comes in every day at 8:30 A.M.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Down Your Little Heart For Me

**Author's Note:**

> rach and luna are lifesavers. you wouldn't be reading this if it weren't for them.
> 
> the title is from something unusual by wolf gang.
> 
> disclaimer: i don't own the percy jackson and the olympians series, much less any of the characters i borrow. the only thing that's mine is axe. not even the plot is mine. i'm useless, here.
> 
> shout out to anon on tumblr for prompting me: "can you please write a coffee shop au where Percy's the barista and annabeth regularly goes to the shop?"
> 
> i hope you enjoy!

;;;

"Can I get a shaken iced green tea, please?"

Percy jumps where he’s standing next to the latte machine, because he knows that order and he knows that voice. It seems to have ingrained itself in his memory, so much that he couldn’t erase it even if he wanted to. Which, he doesn’t. He leans back a little to see Jennifer taking the order of a tall, tan, blonde girl in a blazer.

He spills steamed milk on himself, and it hurts like fuck, but he has to make an iced drink in a second so... He’ll be fine, he decides.

Annabeth Chase has been something of a permanent fixture in Percy’s life for, oh, the past six months. She enters the coffee shop every weekday at 8:30 A.M. on the dot and without fail, which just so happens to coincide with Percy’s heartbeat picking up the pace.

It’s less of a crush and more of a crushing feeling; kind of like an avalanche is raining down on him ninety percent of the time. She’s stunning, in this quiet-but-loud way that has Percy thoroughly charmed before he even learns her name. He’s positive that she’s from another galaxy.

(Or, more likely, Percy has a weakness for blondes who look out of his league. That’s definitely it, actually. Plus, she orders green tea. It’s so cute that he aches.)

Jennifer passes the cup off to him. “Sha—“

"I know the order," Percy grumbles moodily, and mostly because it’s been six months, roughly 183 days, over 4000 hours that he’s known about Annabeth’s existence. And of all the opportunities presented, he’s still too nervous to say more than two words to her.

"One day," he tells himself. _Never_ , his mind corrects.

He manages to call out her order without blushing. He calls it progress.

;;

Percy’s favorite thing about Saturdays are the fact that he can breathe a little easier. Make lattes without searing his hands constantly until they’re blood red. Stir teas without knocking cups over so much that even Axe snaps at him. The typical things one should be able to do, but Percy fails to when he’s anticipating the arrival of a certain blonde.

Annabeth hasn’t ever come in on a Saturday or a Sunday, to Percy’s knowledge. He smiles easily at the sleep-ridden customers who wander in and sneaks kids free pastries. He doesn’t think about blonde curls, except, like... twice. Maybe more.

He’s grinning at a young girl who politely asked for a chocolate chip cookie when he hears the door chime. Percy glances at the clock—about a minute until he goes on break—but he decides to help one last customer before Axe gets back from smoking.

"Welcome to the Crucial Coffee Cafe!" he calls out on reflex, kneeling to grab a box of straws from under the counter. "I’ll be right with you."

"Take your time," the person answers, and Percy very nearly brains himself on the counter.

He stares at the box of straws in his hands blankly, replaying the voice over and over. It was Annabeth the first time, and it’s still Annabeth the 37th time.

"Don’t fuck up," he urges himself quietly, pinching the skin above his knee. As an afterthought, he hopes she didn’t hear him talking to himself.

"What do people usually get here, as far as meals go?" she asks, making him start.

Percy swallows and wonders how long he can maintain his place beneath the counter. Maybe they can complete the entire transaction this way. “Uh, the panini is pretty popular. Chicken. With, uh, onions and tomatoes and… stuff.”

"First day?" Annabeth asks, with a hint of sympathy.

Percy bristles a little bit at that, because if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s this job. “I’ve worked here for over a year,” he answers, trying to inject confidence into his voice. He forces himself to stand upright, holding up the box of straws by way of explanation. “Sorry about that. What can I get you?”

He almost lets out a sigh of relief as Annabeth casts her eyes on the menu again. He uses it to his advantage, tracing his eyes over the planes of her face. So it seems she’s gotten no less beautiful. Tragic, really, she should share with the world.

Annabeth seems to deliberate for a few seconds longer before she lets out a chuckle. “I come in here almost every day and I get the same thing,” she admits. “I was kind of hoping to try something new?”

"Broadening the horizons," Percy adds, mentally cringing at himself.

Annabeth nods vehemently. “Exactly. Any suggestions? What do you usually get?” She looks back at him, and Percy has to pinch himself again to make sure he hasn’t died yet.

"Uh, tea. Usually."

"Insightful," she comments. "I meant specifically."

"Oh!" Percy exclaims. "Sorry. I, uh, usually go for the chai tea? Latte?"

"Is that a question?" She raises an eyebrow, almost like she’s teasing him. Percy feels faint.

"No. I do. Get that."

"Okay," Annabeth says slowly, smiling a little. "Then I would like one. And a panini as well."

"Cool," Percy says, wincing a little. He was smooth, once upon a time. The time has long passed, though, which leaves him with lame phrases and a lack of brain cells. He keys it into the register and reads off the total, trying to maintain his composure while he gives her cash back. “I’ll have that right out for you,” he assures her, a paragon of a respectful employee.

“Yo, Annabeth! How are you?”

Percy turns so quickly he probably snaps his neck. Axe is smiling at someone behind Percy—Annabeth. “What,” he says.

“Hey!” the blonde returns with a small grin. “It’s been a while. I see the hair hasn’t faded just yet?”

Axe scoffs, pulling his apron over his head. “Yeah, she totally lied. It’ll probably take another month or two.”

“Hairdressers,” Annabeth agrees with a sympathetic hum.

“What,” Percy repeats, because she knows his best friend, and he isn’t sure how this failed to be on his radar. He starts making Annabeth’s drink, but he keeps glancing between them.

Axe raises an eyebrow. “Me and Annabeth met at the hair salon a while ago. For some reason they double scheduled me and her for the same hairdresser at the same time, and Annabeth, the saint”—the blonde chuckles at this—”told me I could go ahead. We ended up talking for a while.”

“Small world,” Annabeth finishes.

“Yeah,” Percy says, laughing. He’s confused. He wants to meet Annabeth at a hair salon. Fate isn’t fair. “Microscopic, really.”

Axe pushes his shoulder, nearly causing a burned hand on Percy’s part. Percy needs to keep his cool. Conceal, don’t feel and all that. He’s also pretty sure he just quoted Frozen, but... He’s only human. “You can go on break now,” Axe tells him, pushing a lock of vibrant orange out of his eyes.

Percy blinks, his hand poised to empty the steamed milk into the cup. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Axe answers slowly, giving him a weird look. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just… Feel weird. Kind of sleepy?”

Axe smiles, but it looks like more of a grimace. “Hey, you can go home if you need to, you know? We aren’t really busy right now. Your shift ends in, like, an hour anyways.”

“I know, but—”

“Go home,” Axe orders, rolling his eyes. “I’ll tell my dad you got sick or something.”

Percy’s positive that Axe is the best thing to ever happen to him. He’s the whole reason Percy _got_ the job anyways, and Percy almost hugs it out right there. “I’m not really that tired,” he protests, albeit weakly. Axe nudges him away from the counter, taking over his masterpiece of a latte. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“As always,” Axe mutters, but he grins at Percy. “Go on. Get some sleep.”

Percy loves a lot of things in the world—reality television and grilled cheese are the most highly esteemed—and Axe is pretty far up on the list. He might clean up the kitchen a little on his way out, just to show his appreciation.

He smiles fleetingly at Annabeth, who can barely wave before he turns on his heel and rushes out the door.

;;

The interesting thing about mad crushes, Percy thinks, is that they only get progressively madder with each passing moment.

Annabeth orders a chai tea on Monday morning, and Percy beams the entire three minutes it takes him to make it.

;;

On Thursday, Percy's working the register. Every time the door chimes, his heart shoots up into his throat.

When it's five minutes until Annabeth's typical time of arrival, Percy inadvertently checks himself out in the small sliver of reflective metal on his register. He isn't above that, but he probably should be. He’s turned around, glancing at the clock and trying to gauge if he has time for a quick run to the bathroom when someone clears their throat.

The someone is Annabeth. Percy forgets the entire English language in a matter of moments. “Hi, Percy,” she says easily, smiling briefly before casting her eyes up to the menu.

“Hi,” he tries, but it sounds like more of a squeak. “Hello.” _There we go, actually sounding like a human._ “What can I get for you?”

“A boss who’s a touch less shitty and a pay raise,” Annabeth smoothly states, still reading the menu.

Percy fish mouths. “I. I don’t think I can… help. You there. I—”

“I was kidding, you big dork.” Percy’s heart clenches. _Dork_. They’re practically married, he thinks. “I’ll go for the chai tea again. Medium, please.”

The grip on Percy’s heart releases. Annabeth smiles at him and he’s pretty sure his heart just… evaporates. “Okay.” He fumbles for the medium-sized cup and pats his pockets for a pen. “Uh, name. Your name?” He scoffs at himself, complete with an eyeroll. “Sorry, stupid question, I know your—”

“You know what?” Annabeth says, cocking her head to the side. “I think I want to be someone else today. Surprise me.”

“Surprise…” Percy blinks. “Like, just choose a name? And write it?” Annabeth nods, and he lets out a small laugh. He’s pretty sure his expression is so fond it’s embarrassing. “Alright then.”

He scrawls out the first thing that comes to mind and makes her drink in record time. He can’t hold his smile back when he passes it to her. “‘Katy Perry’?” Annabeth raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Don’t even lie, you know her new song is good,” Percy says, grinning. “Plus, she’s cool.”

“Is this some sly way of complimenting me?” Annabeth questions, taking a sip of her drink. A dab of foam clings to her bottom lip before she purses her lips and rids of it.

“Maybe,” Percy says. “You’ll never know.” He tries to make it sound noncommittal, but he isn’t as successful as he hopes.

Annabeth hums in response, glancing him up and down. “Thanks for my drink.”

“Anytime.”

She gives him another look before leaving, and Percy mentally congratulates himself for maintaining his cool. Or most of it, anyways.

;;

From that day forward, Annabeth asks to be someone else.

Percy’s always been the kind of person who can’t say no all that easily, so he obliges.

;;

“What about Jasmine?” Percy asks, shifting Annabeth’s drink in his hand. It’s already been made, but Annabeth simply will not accept the name ‘Beth’. Apparently because it’s technically her name.

“I was already Jasmine,” she complains, frowning at him.

“Gwyneth Paltr—”

“You know I hate her!”

Percy bites back a smile, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth. “I’ve got one.” Annabeth looks on, silently questioning. When Percy doesn’t say anything, she leans over the counter in an attempt to get a good look. “Ah, ah ah,” he tuts, shaking his index finger at her, sliding the cautionary sleeve down the hot drink so he has more room to write. “No peeking.”

Annabeth sighs, tapping her foot. “How long is this name?”

“Not long at all, when you have patience,” Percy tells her promptly, finishing his careful handwriting with a flourish. He slides the sleeve back up, covering the black markings. Annabeth reaches out for it, but he pulls it back over the counter with a warning gaze. “Promise me you won’t look until you’re at _least_ by the stop sign at the end of the road.”

“This is ridiculous. I am a paying customer! Axe!” she cries, making grabby hands at the drink. “Your customer service is so _shoddy_ —”

Percy half-gasps, half-laughs. “How _dare_ you, Annabeth?”

Axe turns and gives them a mildly amused look. “You two alright?”

“We’re perfect,” Percy answers with a sunny smile. Annabeth glares. “Promise?”

“I promise, you—”

“There are little ones in here,” he interjects, sending a pointed glance to the families dotted around the cafe. “No profanities.”

Annabeth leans closer, throwing Percy off balance, and snatches her drink. “You are an asshole,” she tells him pleasantly.

He should probably send a furious look after her, but all he manages is a lovestruck sigh. Percy loves the way Annabeth walks—with this air of confidence, not arrogance. Every step looks purposeful, even if she’s strutting in the wrong direction. He could write sonnets about her. Epic poems. He could rewrite the Oddessy and have every line pertain to Annabeth, and it would just be the prologue.

“What did you write, anyways?” Axe inquires, trying his hardest to look disinterested. Percy knows that he’s caught onto his painful crush, and he’s just as invested—if not _more_ invested—than Percy himself.

“My number,” the black-haired boy sighs out, his stomach turning over in a not-so-pleasing manner. Axe looks somewhat impressed. Percy makes a mental note to remain optimistic. “I also may have changed her name to ‘Beautiful’?”

“Sap,” Axe scoffs, but he squeezes Percy’s shoulder. “I hope she calls. Even if she doesn’t, we’re the only coffee shop for, like, twenty miles. She can’t avoid us unless she’d rather inconvenience. Which she might. But, I mean, don’t worry about it. At least until she doesn’t show up for a week or two.”

 _So much for optimism_ , Percy thinks. He drops his head against the display case full of pastries.

;;

Annabeth doesn’t call, and Percy doesn’t pout. Probably. Whatever, there’s no cameras around, who’s going to hold it against him if he maybe, potentially does? No one, that’s who.

;;

When he wakes up the next morning, there’s two texts from an unknown number.

**Unknown:** _“Beautiful”_

**Unknown:** _Original, you are._

They were sent at 4 A.M., which is a little questionable, but Percy still replies with a smile.

**Percy:** _you spelled honest wrong, I think. could be wrong_

He rolls out of bed and pulls on a t-shirt from years ago that he purchased at a concert. By the time he’s made himself presentable, two more texts have come through.

**Unknown:** _You are. Which Katherine Heigl movie did you get this idea from, if you don’t mind me asking?_

Percy pulls up his contacts while he thinks of a good reply. He changes her name to Katy Perry for memory’s sake and tacks on a teacup emoji for his own pleasure.

 **Percy:** _the one with the cute coffee boy, obviously._

 **Katy Perry ☕:** _Haven’t seen that one, I’m sad to say. Sounds like a real thriller._

He types out an instinctive response before erasing half of it, then hesitating before deleting all of it. He’s known about Annabeth for 9 months now, but he’s only _known_ her for 3 of them. Percy questions his sanity as he types up initial reaction once more.

 **Percy:** _that’s a shame... we should watch it sometime._

Life’s too short to be anything less that straight-forward and embarrassing, Percy thinks.

**Katy Perry ☕:** _‘Sometime’ ????_

He takes a deep breath and flops down on his bed. He’s doing this, then.

 **Percy:** _like together... on a Friday or Saturday or whenever_

**Katy Perry ☕:** _I can’t help but feel like there’s a certain word for something like that…. It might start with a ‘d’? I feel like it rhymes with ‘mate’_

Percy rolls over on his stomach and lets out a groan into his mattress. She’s so _cute_. His stomach hurts. At least she doesn’t seem adverse to the idea.

 **Percy:** _wait til I tell my mom I’m going on a date with katy perry_

 **Katy Perry ☕:** _Date!_ _That was the word._

Percy sends her some nonsensical emojis. He tacks on a heartfelt ‘ _don’t embarrass me more than I already am I accept and encourage pity yeses’_.

Annabeth answers with a teacup emoji. Percy stares at her name in his phone until his eyes burn and replies with one of his own, trying not to think too hard about the term soulmates.

;;

Monday morning, Annabeth leans over the counter and picks a medium-sized cup, filching a Sharpie out of Percy’s apron. He barely finishes saying ‘hello’ when Annabeth hands the cup back to him.

 _Friday at 7:30 P.M._ , it reads. “As a side note, I am well aware there is no Katherine Heigl movie with a cute coffee boy, so I hope you choose something more impressive.”

“More impressive than me? Impossible,” he teases, setting the cup aside. So maybe he’ll make himself a latte while he’s on break, and maybe he’ll use the cup she wrote on. Details. “And who do you want to be today?”

She pauses. “Annabeth. Just me.”

“The best person there is,” Percy commends, sending her a smile. He writes her name in his best cursive. “Chai tea?”

“As always.”

He makes her drink out of muscle memory more than anything, and passes it over the counter with a grin. “Have a good day, Katy!”

Annabeth rolls her eyes at him, but he sees the smile that spreads across her face just before she turns her back on him. Percy _does not_ lean against the counter and sigh happily.

“Disgusting,” Axe comments.

“Fuck off,” Percy says pleasantly, ruffling his best friend’s hair. “I like the green.”

“ _Hunter_ green,” he corrects, turning his nose up. “Don’t say just ‘green’; makes me sound like some rogue sea monster.” Percy does a less than attractive snort-cackle at that, and Axe maintains his snooty persona for a few moments more before he cracks a smile. “You got a date?”

“ _And_ a number.”

Axe lets out a disbelieving laugh, but his smile is proud. “I hope you have fun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Percy says, stepping up the register to greet the customer who just entered. “Stop with all the sentimentality, I might cancel on Annabeth to date _you_.”

Axe bursts out laughing just as Percy calls out, “How may I help you?”

;;

The date, as Percy feared, goes horribly.

For one, the employee who makes their popcorn adds so much butter it’s almost inedible. Annabeth winces at the liquid butter that clings to her hands, and Percy offers her approximately twenty napkins. He proceeds to drop the popcorn in the process, which makes Annabeth laugh so hard she snorts. The lady in front of them shoots a deathly look over her shoulder, which leaves them both in stitches.

So, they get kicked out of the movie theatre. Percy’s shoulders are hunched as they exit the building, and they stay that way until Annabeth sways into him. “Hey, lighten up. We both know that movie was going to suck anyways.”

“Yeah, but—” He cuts himself off, shrugging. “Yeah.”

“Let’s get coffee.”

Percy frowns. “I don’t like coffee.”

“That’s because you’re an embarrassment to coffee shop employees worldwide,” Annabeth banters. “I refuse to let this date be less than an hour long.”

Percy’s body warms considerably at the word ‘date’. “Yeah?”

“Is that the only word you’re capable of now? Yes, _of course_. Coffee, tea, _whatever._ Let’s go.”

Percy makes a valiant attempt to suppress his grin, but Annabeth’s is so wide that resistance is futile. They go to the coffee shop he works at, and Axe makes them two teas, at least having the grace to pretend he’s not getting a kick out of the situation. Annabeth tells Percy about her day and about her life; blushes as she recounts an embarrassing story from a middle school dance; smiles when she talks about her younger siblings.

If Percy was the kind of guy who kissed before the first date was even _over_ , he would have probably passed out from a lack of oxygen by now.

Axe continues to send Percy thumbs up’s every time the black-haired boy glances in his direction. Percy refuses to acknowledge it. Annabeth rants about the lack of appreciation for quality pop music, and Percy tries to keep the utter fascination out of his eyes. Judging by the way Axe covers up his laughter with his hands, Percy deduces that he’s not all that convincing.

;;

Annabeth says goodnight with a warm kiss pressed to his cheek, and Percy might keep his hand on his cheek for the majority of the way home. _Details._

;;

Percy—throughout high school, especially—had heard many tortured souls moan and groan about the perils of having a crush.

 _They feel like pouring straight acid on your skin,_ his friend Nico had once said. _And not even an acid that's strong enough to burn to your bones and kill you. It just hurts and never puts you out of your misery._

Needless to say, Nico is by far his most morbid friend. This doesn’t go to say that Percy doesn’t appreciate the imagery—it’s poetic, really. That's probably why Nico ended up in Hollywood writing songs for the singers too strung out to write their own.

And, contrary to lovestruck teens and pre-teens around the world, Percy always enjoyed crushes. He enjoyed the giddy madness of it all; the blushing and stuttering, the smiles and giggles. It's the second best part of a relationship, if you ask him. The first best would be kissing, which isn't synonymous with sex in his mind. He likes kissing in all its simplicity—good morning kisses, hello kisses, lazing around the house kisses, I-just-stepped-on-your-toes-and-I'm-sorry kisses. All of them.

That train of thought is more than a little inappropriate as he babysits for his neighbor, probably, but if he doesn't think of love in general, he'll just think of Annabeth. Which. He would hate to blind the poor kid with his smile.

"When are Mommy and Daddy going to be home?"

Percy starts at the sound of a curious voice behind him. He turns and scoops up the little boy—his favorite, and, coincidentally, the only kid he's ever had to watch. "They'll be home long after sleepy time."

"I'm not tired," Jonah argues, scowling at Percy.

He hums in acknowledgement. "I hear ya."

Jonah is probably the best kid in the world. He has a sort of pseudo-stubbornness to him that he drops the moment he’s given an order. He’s only cried once when Percy’s been watching him—and after a _skinned knee_ , so that’s basically a free pass. After months of watching Jonah here and there, Percy’s already decided that he refuses to have a child unless it’s practically a clone of the kid.

Jonah goes down easily enough when Percy asks him to sleep, but he gets a little upset when the black-haired man informs him that he will not be there when the boy wakes up. His parents get home not long after, and following a short chat, Percy heads home.

He narrowly misses the couch, having to catch himself with one arm before he plummets to his death. He internally groans—being around kids brings out his dramatic side for hours on end. Everything turns into a hyperbole after an hour with a five year-old.

Percy’s nearly dozed off when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He has half a mind to ignore it, but it’s been a while since he talked to his mom and it’s safe to say he’s a little worried (and guilty for not contacting her first—he’s been busy, even if it’s hardly an excuse).

However, once he manages to wrangle the phone out of his pocket and glance at the screen, it’s Annabeth’s name plastered across it.

Which… is okay. They’ve just never called each other. _Ever_.

He swallows thickly and squeezes his eyes shut as he blindly taps ‘answer.’ “Hello?”

“Hi!” Annabeth greets, and the static coming through the line is nearly louder than her voice. “I’m… at a party!”

 _And judging by your voice, you’ve tapped into the liquor cabinet_ , Percy thinks, but he smiles outwardly. “A party? What for?”

“Office party,” she tells him solemnly. “Very serious.” She proceeds to burst into breathless giggles that Percy finds so cute it very nearly hurts. “That’s what they said, anyways. But then I show up, and there’s all this beer and shot-things and _people_ , there’s so many people, I don’t even think they work with me? They’re just all here and I think someone threw up on my shoe earlier. It’s so loud. Can you hear me? I can’t even hear me. Where is the door?”

Percy listens to her rambling. It’s almost like he’s peeking behind the curtain and seeing her general—well, slightly inebriated—thought process. “What did you drink, exactly?”

“I am not drunk,” she informs Percy, despite his lack of asking. “I just… ride. Need a ride.” The noise subsides finally, replaced by the honking of horns.

“I can come get you,” Percy offers slowly, not quite sure of her implications. Annabeth starts humming some tune he’s sure plays on the radio. “I mean, if that’s what you want?”

“You are my favorite human.” And if, hypothetically, Percy blushes wildly at that, Annabeth’s not there to see it. “You’re so nice and dumb and boyish. Boyish boy.”

Percy snorts a little, sitting up straight and patting his pockets for his keys. He finds them easily enough. “Am I anything else?”

“Cute,” Annabeth states. “Almost hot, but like. Not quite. Can you bring me water? It’s hot out here.”

Percy stops breathing momentarily, listening to the buzz of the city coming through the line. He isn’t sure whether to be pleased or offended. “Yeah,” he chokes out eventually. “Yeah, water. That—um… Where are you?”

“The hotel. ‘S stupid because we have our _own_ reception hall at the company, but they chose a hotel. Stupid.”

Petulant Annabeth may be inching its way up on his list of ‘Cutest Things.’ “Which hotel?”

“Hilton. Like Paris. And Paris, like the city.” Annabeth’s laughter that follows makes his face hurt with the force of his grin. “Are you coming now?”

“Yeah, I’m leaving,” he lies, scrambling around the kitchen trying to find a water bottle. He gives up and snatches a thermos out of the cabinet. “Stay close to a building and away from the street.”

Annabeth scoffs. “I’m not stupid, you know. Just… kinda tipsy-ish-ly.”

“Tipsy-ish-ly,” Percy repeats. “Right. I’m leaving now, so—”

“Hurry up, I’m thirsty,” Annabeth whines, dragging out the last syllable. She hangs up on him a moment later.

 _Okay_ , Percy thinks. “Okay,” he says, just to make sure he is, in fact, alive. “Right. Leaving.”

The drive to the local Hilton is fifteen minutes without traffic, and of course Annabeth would pick a busy Friday night to drink too much wine. He briefly wonders why he was the one she called—not that he’s complaining, of course. It just seems like there would be people preceding him in Annabeth’s list of trusted individuals.

No matter, he arrives as timely as possible. Annabeth’s sat herself on a bench and appears to be highly engaged in some game on her phone. “Annabeth,” Percy calls, rolling down the window. She jumps and looks behind herself immediately, and he might smile fondly. It’s a possibility. “Hey! I’m—here.”

Annabeth finally catches sight of him and makes her way over to the car with minimal stumbling. “You made me lose my game.”

“But I brought you water.” Percy smiles hopefully up at her, and Annabeth promptly drops her phone.

“Jesus shitting fuck.”

“Are you alright?” He’s probably not concealing his amusement all that well, but. Annabeth’s a generally amusing person. Interesting, too. And she’s—

“No, I just cracked my phone, actually, but whatever, ‘s cool, it’s all cool. Like ice. Totally.”

Percy laughs at that and pushes the door open for her. She narrowly avoids braining herself on the car door, which makes Percy’s heart shoot up into his throat, but she settles in without injury. “You okay?”

“Sleepy,” she says with a shrug.

He nods distractedly, staring at an awry curl. “Tell me about the party,” he urges, maneuvering his way out of probably the worst parallel parking job he’s ever done.

“It was for our boss, who’s retiring, which means his son gets to be boss. His son is too immature, though, no one’s going to listen to him and nobody likes him. Water?” Percy points to the console between them. “You’re my favorite human.”

“You said as much,” Percy reminds her, trying his hardest to keep his eyes on the road and not on the blonde beside him. “Did you, um, have a good week? Or day?”

“Okay week, weird day. You didn’t work today, which was annoying. There was an annoying person making my drink. Isabella, whatever, she wasn’t you.” Annabeth chatters on for around five minutes, and Percy listens happily without even considering an interruption—that is, until he realizes that he has _no clue_ where he’s taking her.

“Where do you live?” he interjects, the moment Annabeth pauses.

“Ew, no, not home,” she says before diving back into her recollection of a rude taxi driver on her way to work. Which—that’s an interesting thought. Annabeth could have called a cab rather than him. “I’m going to Thalia’s.”

“Is Thalia okay with that?” Percy asks cautiously, even when Annabeth signals for him to turn. The blonde nods impatiently, huffing at him. “Where does she live?”

“I’ll show you, Mr. Question Asker,” Annabeth grumbles.

“Mr. Question Asker,” he repeats, hardly disguising his delight. “I think I’ll call the government and change my name immediately.”

“Shut up. Turn.”

“Which way?”

“Wait, no—go straight. Or left?”

“ _Annabeth_ —”

“ _Percy_.”

With a sigh, the black-haired man pulls over, pushing the car into park. “Where am I going?”

“Here. Let’s sit here,” Annabeth decides, moving to unbuckle her seatbelt before she realizes that she never put it on at the start. “Here’s good.”

Percy scowls a little, he’ll admit. “If you just wanted to sit in my car, why didn’t you just say that?”

“Because I didn’t know I wanted to until now,” Annabeth states candidly. “Also, we passed Thalia’s apartment ten minutes ago.”

He stops scowling; raises an eyebrow at her instead. “And you didn’t tell me why…?”

“Because being around you is nice, Mr. Question Asker, and maybe I planned on having you drive in circles all night long.” Percy turns away from her, his stomach turning in an equally disarming and pleasant manner. “I think I’m sobering up. I’m tired.”

“So let me take you home,” Percy suggests, keeping his voice low so he doesn’t seem demanding.

“Nope, I’m good. Right here. I don’t really like home.”

Percy bites the inside of his cheek. There’s something he’s noticed about he and Annabeth’s texting and quick conversations at the coffee shop—it’s all lighthearted. He feels like he understands her personality well enough, but he doesn’t really know much about _her_. They’ve exchanged favorite colors as well as some basic likes and dislikes, but there's a certain lack of depth to their conversations.

It's that fact alone that encourages him to say, "Why?"

Annabeth stays silent for a few moments, and Percy's almost sure that she's fallen asleep, until a soft-spoken "It's too quiet there."

He doesn't know how to respond, so he says nothing. Annabeth doesn't elaborate, and Percy watches the city lights flash across her face. It's mesmerizing; a scene that belongs in an award-winning movie. Or, _maybe_ , Percy thinks with a hint of wistfulness, it belongs in a homemade video, where she's driving across the country with someone she loves next to her, holding up a camera to capture the moment.

Percy briefly toys with the thought of being that one—the one Annabeth would tour the nation with. He thinks he'd like any scenario with her, so long as it had a happy ending.

"Ever since I moved out of my parents' house, I've lived alone," Annabeth says, a while later. "I don't think I like it." She says the words like they're a secret, like it's something that she's kept buried. "I feel like there are people who think too much when it's quiet, and people who don't think enough. I'm—”

Percy, having decided he’s cold, reached out to turn down the air conditioning. He ends up knocking the water out of Annabeth’s hand.

“I’m so sor—” Percy rushes to apologize, holding his hands out helplessly.

“It’s fine,” Annabeth tells him, waving her hands. She proceeds to slide her blazer off, which leaves her in a nice blouse, but… Percy most definitely blushes anyways. “No worries, this is an old one anyways.” She uses her blazer to soak up a few drops of water off the console.

“I’m so sorry,” he says again, playing the scene back over in his mind with a sense of dread.

“Stop apologizing, you big dork.” Annabeth sends him a pointed look, then smiles. “I would expect no less, after all the times you spilt steamed milk on yourself.”

Percy’s heart stops. “All the times I… What?”

“You spill steamed milk on yourself often,” Annabeth continues, folding her blazer messily. “Like, almost every time I see you make a drink.”

“I get distracted easily,” Percy says slowly. If Annabeth noticed a detail as miniscule as that, there’s no limit to what else she may have noticed.

“Or you’re just clumsy,” she suggests with a shrug. “Happens to the best of us.”

Percy stays quiet for a second, then he clears his throat. “Right. Uh—probably a bit of both, honestly.” Annabeth laughs quietly, nodding, and Percy’s having some issues looking away from her.

“Anyways,” she says, cocking her head to the side. “I just think I’m more of the person who hates silence. I like being busy, I guess.”

Percy considers. “That’s understandable. I vow to talk your ear off any time there’s silence around you.”

Annabeth turns, resting her temple against the headrest. “Thanks.” She smiles something small and quiet, but it turns out to be pretty momentous to him. “You’re a good friend, you know?”

 _Friend_ , Percy thinks. “You, too,” he says.

;;

Annabeth doesn’t talk to him for a full day after what he’s branded The Wine Incident.

He busies himself with constantly unlocking his phone and checking for messages. He may slip in a few episodes of reality television.

When it’s nearing the 23rd hour without contact, Percy results to calling his mother. It’s a welcome distraction; she tells him about home, which is a mere half-hour away; rambles on endlessly about a novel she wants to write; tells him all about how her small-town business is going. Percy presses the phone so closely to his ear, soaking up every word and missing his mother’s presence. There’s some of it transferred through the line, but not hardly enough to quench the strange tug in his heart.

She asks him about work, and he tells her easily. She asks him how Axe is (“Great, Mom. His hair’s green.” _Interesting_ , she calls it.) and replies in the affirmative to a request to visit as soon as possible.

His mother has this way about her that turns off all the noise for a while. She calms his restless mind with anecdotes from home and whatever book she’s read recently. As he’s hanging up, Percy tries not to feel too guilty about his lack of visits—it _is_ only thirty minutes away, after all—and texts Axe immediately.

 **Percy:** mom says she wants to see your hair, think we could pull a visit sometime soon??

 **Sea Monster:** Depends. Is she making the cookies?

Percy rolls his eyes at the person he’s chosen as his best friend, takes the reply as a yes, and answers with an emoji of an axe.

 **Sea Monster:** WOW I’VE NEVER SEEN THAT ONE BEFORE

 **Sea Monster:** I actually wish I could show you how many axe emojis I receive when will the human race gain creativity

 **Percy:** blah blah blah go write about it in your diary

Percy snorts at his own response. He really loves himself sometimes—sparkling sarcasm is one of his best qualities.

 **Sea Monster:** IT IS A JOURNAL YOU HEATHEN

 **Sea Monster:** I’ll write Latin incantations about you is what I’ll do

 **Percy:** make it one that encourages annabeth to text me

The black-haired man is _hardly_ above whining to his best friend. Axe replies with a string of question marks, and Percy sighs loudly before dialing his best friend.

“What’s up?” Axe greets, his voice echoing. “I’m going to brush my teeth now, start talking.”

Percy hears the telltale sound of a tube of toothpaste flicking open. "Annabeth was drunk last night and she called me—" Axe makes a noise that's probably supposed to express interest, but it leaves Percy laughing until his stomach hurts. "Christ, you're so weird. Anyways, she told me she needed a ride. I went, obviously, then we just sort of... hung out in my car for a while?"

He hears Axe spit, which is reasonably disgusting. Best friends through thick and thin and all that. “‘Hung out’?” he asks, his voice echoing. “Define that.”

“We didn’t _do_ anything if that’s what you’re asking—”

“A wasted opportunity,” Axe says sullenly, then goes back to brushing his teeth. Percy’s somewhat glad he isn’t talking anymore.

“I mean, we got to know each other a little better, so I don’t really ca—my point is, she hasn’t texted me or called or anything since then.” He pulls his phone from his ear, checking the time. “And it’s eleven at night.”

“She’s probably recovering from a hangover,” is what Percy assumes Axe says. It’s slightly hard to hear through, well, his toothbrush. That and the echo.

“I don’t think she was even that drunk, but… I mean, I guess so,” Percy replies, flopping down on his back. “We’ve just been talking non-stop, so it’s weird having a Saturday where we didn't talk.”

“Aw, you’re attached,” Axe coos, apparently done brushing his teeth. “You could always text her first, you know.”

“She told me I was a good _friend_ last night.” Percy frowns a little at the memory. “Like, I don’t want to keep talking to her like I’m looking for something? Especially if she doesn’t want anything? I’d hate to make her uncomfortable, and it seems like harassment, maybe.”

“Do you even understand how well your mother raised you? You’re so courteous about everything,” Axe tells him with a proud undertone. “You’re a good person, you know.”

“Annabeth told me I was her ‘favorite human,’” Percy informs him, sighing dramatically. “I don’t know, man, I just don’t want to force a relationship on her if she’s not really looking for something more?”

“Pal,” Axe says, sounding like he’s moments away from laughter. “She called _you_ last night when she was drunk. Did you even think about the fact that she could have just as easily called a cab?”

“I did think about it, actually,” he answers, rubbing his face with his freehand. “I just didn’t know what to do about that.”

“Well?” Axe prompts. “Did you ask her why she called you instead?”

Percy falls silent. His best friend groans into the speaker, muttering about how much of a ‘fucking idiot’ he can be. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Of course you didn’t. Text her something about how you hope she’s feeling better, I don’t know, man—”

“She wasn’t even properly drunk. Like, she said she was drinking _wine_ , not vodka, and—”

“Just _text_ her for crying out loud. See how that goes.” Axe hangs up, and dial tones ring in Percy’s ears for a few seconds.

He scowls at his phone, but then he sees—he has a message.

 **Katy Perry ☕:** Hiiii sorry this is so late you’re probably asleep by now but I just wanted to say thank you for getting me last night! Sorry for any plans you had to break.

Percy screenshots the message and sends it to Axe. He then proceeds to shove his face into a couch cushion and groan.

 **Sea Monster:** You were worried for nothing, loser. I’m sleeping now goodnight

He doesn’t answer Axe, but he pulls up his and Annabeth’s conversation. It probably has over four thousand texts in it, taking into account their exploration of every single emoji available and recounting stories from their days. He scrolls up a little to re-read Annabeth’s reaction to a knock knock joke he sent her, and that’s when he decides what to say.

 **Percy:** it wasn’t a problem at all, no plans broken. but…

 **Katy Perry ☕:** But…?

He smiles.

 **Percy:** you may owe me. like, second-date owe me.

 **Katy Perry ☕:** I think we could work that out..

Percy screenshots that too, and vows to stop keeping such a large collection of his texts with Annabeth. He’ll probably break his own promise, but for now it makes him feel less like a teenage boy in puppy love.

 **Percy:** I’m happy to hear that, miss perry. I could potentially cook you dinner to apologize for spilling that water on you?

 **Katy Perry ☕:** Jesus, Percy, barely any spilled, let it goooo. Yes to dinner though!

Percy’s almost glad that they’re texting, because his smile is a little embarrassing. He’s only partly disappointed with himself for asking her out over text, but to be fair, Annabeth’s intimidating. He doesn’t embarrass himself so much when he has time to read his reply over and make sure he isn’t saying anything too mortifying.

 **Percy:** it’s a date.

;;

The second date goes considerably better than the first. They don’t go to the movies, per Annabeth’s request, but rather, they decide on bowling. The alley they arrive at is more or less run down, with only a few lanes being taken up by groups of people who seem to be lounging more than bowling.

Annabeth takes probably twenty pictures of the hideous shoes on Percy’s feet, laughing hysterically at what she breathlessly calls “clown feet.” Percy should probably be offended, but he lands somewhere between amused and amorous. He pretends to be annoyed when she uploads one of the pictures to Instagram, and hides a smile in his sleeve when he sees the caption.

“‘Apparently on a date with a giant’?” Percy reads, raising an eyebrow. “My feet aren’t _that_ big.”

Annabeth lines her foot up with his, showing how there’s at least a two inch difference between them. “You make me look like a toddler.”

“You’re tall, though,” he argues, standing up and pulling on her hand until she does the same.

In retrospect, Percy should have considered the situation a bit more before he impulsively moved her as close as possible. Sadly, he has a lack of forethought around pretty girls.

“See, I told you. We’re almost the sa….” He glances down, wanting to look Annabeth in the eye, but then he finds that he doesn’t really have a choice. The top of her shoes are skimming his.

Percy notices three things in approximately five seconds. For one, Annabeth smells like lemons, just sweeter. Second, her hand is brushing his. Third, he wants to kiss her—and it wouldn’t be difficult to do so. In fact, he would probably only have to lean forward about an inch, which he’s okay with, totally okay with, _incredibly_ okay with—

“You’re up first.” Annabeth smiles, but Percy doesn’t see the corners of her mouth turn up, he only sees the way her eyes get a little brighter. She shoves his chest—a friendly, challenging gesture that seems out of place in the tense air. “Go on, then. Show us how to lose.”

“ _How to lose_?” Percy raises his eyebrows, jutting his chin out a little. “I’ll have you know that I’m _great_ at bowling.”

“No offense, darlin’, but you can hardly walk without stumbling. I fear you don’t have the coordination.”

He tries not to let his mind short circuit at the term of endearment, but it happens anyways. “‘Darlin’?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes, turns around to pick up a bowling ball, and pushes it into his hands. “Just bowl, you big dork.”

;;

Annabeth wins. Percy might be sulking.

“Good bowler my ass,” she snorts as they’re exiting the alley. “I knew you didn’t have the coordination for it.”

“I do, usually,” he argues feebly. “Just having an off night.”

Annabeth gives him a dry look. “I eagerly await the next time we go bowling. Maybe you’ll break 100 points.”

“I was close!” He elbows her shoulder, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t even want to cook you dinner now. You’ve upset me.”

“You’ll cook me dinner,” Annabeth says simply, hardly batting an eye. “Do you need to buy anything, or is it all at home? Can you even cook?”

Percy nearly stomps his foot in petulance—he’s twenty-two years old, sure, but that doesn’t mean insults are any less insulting. “ _Excuse_ you, Annabeth. I’m a great cook.”

“Just like you’re a great bowler?” she shoots back, smirking smugly. He groans aloud, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. Annabeth laughs sunnily, poking at his side. “What else are you _good_ at? Enlighten me, Percy.”

He swings the car door open for her, sending a deathly look her way. “I’m good at hiding bodies.”

Annabeth barks out a surprised laugh as he shuts the door after her. He probably grins something stupid.

;;

Percy cooked a meal for the first time when he was ten. His mother taught him how to make spaghetti, and he proceeded to cook it once a week until she showed him new recipes.

This doesn’t go to say he’s an avid cook—in fact, he much prefers ordering a cheap pizza or persuading Axe to make him something at the cafe—but it’s something he enjoys. If he’s being honest, Percy would cook more if he was feeding more than one person on a regular basis. It just doesn’t seem worth it to spend hours on a meal that a single person will eat.

Annabeth wanders around his house as he pulls out any pots and pans he needs, haphazardly piling objects on his counters. He’s filing through his memory and desperately hoping he hasn’t left anything incriminating around for her to see.

“ _Titanic_?” she shouts from the living room. “ _That’s_ the most recent movie you’ve watched?”

Percy’s brow furrows. _Neither confirm nor deny_ , he thinks. “What makes you think I watched it recently?”

“It’s in the DVD player.”

He pokes his head out of the archway, peering into the living room. “Miss Chase, are you snooping?”

She turns away from him, which makes him almost certain that she’s flushing with embarrassment. He wishes she wouldn’t have turned. “I am not,” she lies, closing the DVD player. “I was just… looking. Around.”

Percy shrugs. If the worst dirt she can find on him is a recently watched romantic movie, he figures that he could fare worse. “I don’t mind.” He swings himself back into the kitchen before leaning out again. “Would you like something to drink?”

“What do you have?” Annabeth asks, seeming eager for a change of subject. Percy smiles a little at that as he gestures her into the kitchen.

“Look around in the fridge, I’m sure there’s something drinkable in there,” he tells her, waving his arm vaguely. Annabeth seems seconds away from laughing, and even if he doesn’t understand why, it’s maybe the best thing he’s seen all day. “I think I even have Capri Suns.”

“A true novelty,” she replies, choosing some gallon of juice Percy forgot that he purchased. “I’m almost positive it’s what the gods drink on Mount Olympus.”

“Ditto,” he says, before he can stop himself. Percy freezes, a chunk of butter falling off his knife and onto the counter. He moves his hands to cover his eyes. “Did I just say that?”

He can almost feel Annabeth’s smile, even though she’s across the room. “You did.”

Percy groans at that, thoroughly mortified. “I cannot _talk_ around you, I swear—I start saying all these weird words I’ve never even _said_ before, and—” Percy stops talking when he feels her pat his elbow in comfort.

So it seems Annabeth is no longer across the room, he thinks idly. It’s a shame, really, because it was much easier to breathe a few moments ago.

“Happens to the best of us,” she assures him. Percy peeks through his fingers and sees her toes centimeters away from his. “Stop covering your face!” She takes the butter knife out of his hand and attempts to pull at his arms, which makes his skin burn a little. He should get that checked out.

“Let me be ashamed,” he says somberly, but he moves his hands so that they’re crossed over his chest. Annabeth grins brightly at him, which _usually_ would make him smile instinctively, but he’s starting to realize why he can’t articulate very well around her.

Annabeth reaches up and adjusts his hair, but Percy doesn’t glance away from her face. He thinks he could kiss her now and get it over with; prevent the nervous bouncing of his knee as the night draws to a close; rid of the tension he might be fabricating in his mind; satisfy the want that’s become nearly bone deep. Annabeth seems like exactly the type of person who finds a place in your life before you even properly know her name, and that’s precisely what she’s done with Percy.

Her hand slides down until it’s hovering beside his jaw—not coming into contact with his skin, but close enough to make his head cloud up a little. “I think you make me stupid,” he admits through the weird haze in his mind. “Like… I can’t even think around you half the time. ‘S stupid.”

Percy sincerely believes that he’ll be much less stupid if he kisses her. He’s tipped his head forward maybe a half an inch when a loud clatter rings through the kitchen and promptly bursts every hope and dream he had.

They both jump—Percy hitting his funny bone against the edge of the counter and Annabeth nearly falling over at the disorienting, loud sound.

Percy steadies her to avoid a casualty and wildly glances around the kitchen, searching for the source of such an inconvenient noise when—

“Shit, I’m sorry, I—”

He looks down. There’s a butter knife on the floor.

“It’s not your fault, it’s just—”

“It is, I should have put it down. There’s—”

Percy chuckles, effectively keeping her from sputtering out another pointless sentence. “What are we even apologizing for? You dropped a knife. A _butter knife_.”

Percy feels one corner of his mouth twitch upward at Annabeth’s small blush. “When you put it that way…” He smiles fully, picking up the dropped silverware.

The kitchen falls silent for far too long to be comfortable, so he busies himself with cooking. He was planning on something much more date-like—chicken alfredo or something of the sort—but he ends up making French toast on autopilot. Annabeth hums approvingly when the sweet aroma fills the kitchen.

“That smells good,” she comments, leaning over his shoulder to get a good look. “I love breakfast.”

Percy almost blurts out something embarrassingly lovestruck when she rests her chin on his shoulder, but he manages to quell the urge. The affection breaks the awkward spell, and he feels like he can breathe again. “Yeah? Me too. My mom used to make it a lot.”

“What’s she like? Your mom?”

“The best,” he says truthfully. “Excluding you.”

“You don’t have to lie to compliment me,” Annabeth tells him, shoving gently at his side. “I know how much you love your mom.”

Percy shoots her a significant look. “I do love my mom. But you’re the best, too. You can both be the best.” She ducks her head, but he knows she’s smiling. “So,” he breathes out. “How does one become extremely successful at the age of twenty-one like yourself?”

“Have a dad with a few connections, learn what business people want from you, do what they want before they even ask for it, make friends with important people,” Annabeth lists, extending a finger with each point. “Charm people, too.”

“And what does charming ensue?”

“Much more lying than I was initially comfortable with,” she admits, shrugging. “But after a while I kind of learned how to separate work-me and real-me, so I’m not a pathological liar outside of the office. That’s what they expect of you, though.”

He frowns a little at that; he’s never quite understood the business industry. “And do you like it?” Percy wonders. “Your job?”

Annabeth seems to contemplate. “I mean, I didn’t really _seek out_ a job at an insurance company. It pays the bills, though.”

He glances over his shoulder. “That’s not really what I was asking.”

She lets out a prolonged sigh. “I think I’m willing to settle for it,” Annabeth decides. “Even if it’s not, like, my _passion_.”

“And your passion is…?”

Percy’s not sure what he was expecting. Writing, maybe. The violin was a good guess, too.

However, “architecture” was probably close to last on his list.

He repeats the word slowly. Annabeth nods. “That’s interesting,” he comments.

“That’s the same thing my dad said,” she offers. “Just before he shoved me into a meeting with a financial advisor who needed an assistant.”

Percy winces a little. His mother had always been eager to encourage his dreams—an astronaut at nine, a rockstar at eleven, a teacher at fifteen. Even when he told her he’d gotten hired at Axe’s father’s coffee shop, she’d been thrilled. He doesn’t have much experience with parents who don’t support their children. “I’m sorry about that,” he says, feebly.

Annabeth lifts one shoulder. “Not your fault.”

“Um, if this isn’t too invasive,” Percy starts, dropping a piece of toast lathered in egg into his skillet, “why don’t you find another job?”

“I’ve already made friends,” she tells him, and her tone is somewhat remorseful. “I’ve already created a schedule. I just feel like it would be too much trouble to do a complete shift, you know?”

“But if it’s your happiness—”

“I _am_ happy,” Annabeth says quickly, moving to stand beside him once more. “Working somewhere I’m not one-hundred percent interested in doesn’t change that.” She nudges his shoulder with her temple, and Percy can’t help his small smile. “Besides. If I didn’t have this job, who knows what coffee shop I’d be going to. I may have never met you.”

Just the thought makes Percy’s chest ache. “That sounds awful.”

“I know,” Annabeth replies, tone morbid. “I can’t imagine my life without your clown feet.”

He barks out a loud laugh, unable to hold it in. “It’s not even my feet! It’s those shoes, I swear!”

“Whatever you say...” She smiles devilishly. “ _Bigfoot_.”

“ _No_ ,” Percy cautions her, holding his spatula close to her face. “Don’t. I will kick you out of my home and enjoy all this food on my own.”

“You won’t,” Annabeth says serenely, burying her face in his shoulder again. “You would never.”

“You’re tempting me,” he grumbles, even if he knows her words are wholly fact.

She goes quiet, and Percy finishes cooking the slice of French toast before he turns his head to look at her. “Are you alright?”

“Depends on whether or not you’re done cooking,” she mutters into his shirt sleeve. “I’m starving. This is no way to treat your guests.”

“So whiny,” Percy admonishes, albeit with a smile. “Yeah, I’m done.”

He serves it up, trying to arrange it as nicely as possible. Annabeth rolls her eyes at him, but she’s smiling when he passes her a plate. Conversation hasn’t ever been an issue between them; they easily surf topics from the best way to cook eggs to their most cherished movies. Percy can never seem to run out of things to say around her, and even when he does she steps right up to the bat and rambles on about something new.

Percy decides that—as much as he wants to test the softness of Annabeth’s lips—just talking is nice. He learns more about her in an hour than he has in a thread of over five thousand messages sent between the two of them.

Annabeth’s sarcastic, Percy knows, but he’s also noticing the way her sharp edges are dulling down to something less sardonic and more teasing. Her quick remarks make him laugh or blush, occasionally both, and she appears extremely satisfied each time. Getting the feeling that _this_ is what she prides herself on—making people laugh with her deadpans and witty remarks—he might chuckle a small bit more than necessary.

As it gets closer and closer to midnight, Percy gets closer and closer to utter infatuation. Every bit of Annabeth draws him in—from the half-snort half-laugh she gives when something’s genuinely funny to the way her eyes smile just before she does.

He might be in some version of love by the time they’re leaving for Thalia’s; Annabeth drowsy and ready to get some sleep. She puts her hand over his on the gear shift a few minutes in, and he smiles stupidly at the road in front of him.

Once he parks in front of Thalia’s apartment building, he starts to wonder what the protocol is for a second date. He’s been on a few here and there after he graduated high school, but none of them had been life-changing enough to qualify for a second date.

Before he can make up his mind, much less lean across the console and kiss her, Annabeth’s opening her door.

“I’ll see you soon,” she promises. “Text me when you get home so I know you didn’t get yourself killed.”

He pulls at her hand to keep her from leaving, and she settles back into her seat easily enough. “That’s a bit harsh, I think.”

“Knowing you, you probably would,” she tells him dryly, one corner of her mouth twitching.

Percy considers kissing her then; considers tugging at her hand until she’s close enough for him to cradle her jaw; considers kissing her until he can hardly remember the year, much less his name.

Annabeth’s eyes change his mind. They don’t give off a warning or any semblance of fear, but, rather, they’re soft and unassuming. For some reason, the moment doesn’t feel right, regardless of how much he wants to lean further into her until he isn’t sure who’s who.

“Night,” he mutters, bringing her hand up to his mouth and placing a light kiss on her knuckles. “See you.”

She smiles beatifically, and Percy detects the lightest of blushes. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

He waits until he can’t see a single strand of blonde hair to depart from the apartment building Annabeth prefers to call home.

;;

When Percy finally does kiss Annabeth, he’s on the clock.

There are probably rules and regulations against it, but when Annabeth arrives Tuesday morning for her coffee, Axe threatens to hang Percy by his apron if he doesn’t ‘plant one on her, for the sake of us all.’

Percy decides to take an impromptu break—one that doesn’t involve clocking out. Annabeth tells him that her office is only a few blocks away; definitely a journey he can make in under thirty minutes. There’s something in her eyes that leaves him physically incapable of saying no.

They walk in something that’s almost like silence, but Annabeth takes his hand when he offers it, so Percy can’t be too bothered. Once they seem to get closer to the hustle and bustle of the city, she starts talking more; almost as if she’s blending into the atmosphere around her.

“Oh!” Annabeth exclaims, covering her mouth after taking a too-large sip of tea. “I almost forgot to tell you! This guy came in the other day and requested to talk to my new boss, right? Like, the son who no one listens to?” Percy nods, feeling excited purely from her enthusiasm. “Well, while he was waiting for Michael—boss, by the way—to make his way down, I decided to strike up some conversation.”

She pauses dramatically, and Percy grips her hand tighter. “And…?”

“He’s starting a construction company,” Annabeth states proudly. Percy’s jaw drops shortly before he breaks into a smile. “ _And_ we got to talking about construction. He offered me a side job—”

“That’s great!” Percy very nearly shouts.

Annabeth shushes him, knocks her shoulder into his. “I know! And it’s not anything, like, high commitment, but I think he just wants to see what I can come up with? He says that he could really use some help on floor plans, and my knowledge on architecture could really come in handy.”

Percy’s face hurts from his smile. “I’m so happy for you,” he tells her, and his voice is nothing but genuine warmth.

Annabeth smiles into her hot drink. “Thanks. Wait, what did you make my name today?”

He’s starting to get second thoughts about the few words he’d scrawled down. In fact, he’s reaching out to revoke her drink from her hand when Annabeth reads off—”If you read this out loud, I’m going to kiss you.” The elation on her face from the job opportunity melts into something more subdued—something softer, _nicer_ , and something that Percy always wants to see.

She looks up at him, so Percy decides to stare down at his toes. He feels the tips of his ears turning bright red.

“I’m holding you to it,” Annabeth says, elbowing at his chest with the arm holding her coffee. She’s moved to stand in front of him, and Percy feels like he’s seventeen again—less that socially adept and taken with the most unattainable girl in school.

She drops his hand and straightens up a little. “Waiting,” Annabeth tells him, then she closes her eyes.

As soon as she does, Percy sends her a panicked look. He suddenly forgets how to kiss—more importantly, how to kiss _well_ —and he feels the inborn demand to make this absolutely _perfect_ , and—

Annabeth opens one eye, squinting at him. “I have to be inside in under five minutes,” she informs him.

He nods shortly. “Right. Um, can you… Close your eyes? Again?”

He thinks he sees her subtly roll her eyes, but he can’t be sure. Annabeth’s eyes are shut serenely, and he can almost pretend her head’s tipped back and she’s laughing at something dumb that he’s said moments prior. The image becomes even better when Annabeth smiles gently.

He leans forward and he kisses her.

It’s not an exceptionally long kiss, nor a much-too-short one, but Annabeth tastes like the cinnamon in her drink. Her lips aren’t as soft as he thought—in fact, they’re chapped from the chilly weather descending on them more recently—but for some reason the fact just makes him smile.

He leans away from her, but stays close enough to keep their foreheads touching. “You have to go,” he mumbles, and he doubts it’s all that coherent, but Annabeth nods. He takes a step back, hoping to get some oxygen in his lungs, and smiles at her. “I’ll see you later.”

“I would hope so,” Annabeth scoffs, but she moves forward to give him a firm kiss before stepping around him. “I might stop by again later.”

“Looking forward to it!” he calls, grinning after her.

“I’m sure you are,” she says wryly, almost over the threshold of the office building.

Percy tosses caution to the wind. “You look really pretty!”

“Dork!” she shouts back fondly before disappearing inside.

He catches a few people smiling over at him, and he tips his head back and enjoys the rays of sun peeking through the clouds.

;;

“Can I get a chai tea latte, please?”

Percy’s lips twist up as he tries his hardest not to smile. “Size?”

“The same as always… Medium,” Annabeth says slowly, giving him a weird look.

“Yes ma’am. Your name?”

She seems to contemplate that. “Hmm… Katy Perry. For old time’s sake.”

He sneaks a kiss over the display case of pastries, and Axe doesn’t slap him on the back of the head this time.

Percy calls it progress.

;;;

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> my fanfiction tumblr is maydayparade8123, all of my other blogs are linked on my profile :)


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